In this post (undoubtedly the longest we’ll publish), are the first six articles of Functional Monk newsletter in a single digest. Referred to as the “lost posts,” they were originally published on LinkedIn where FMn first debuted, but then translated to Substack on the 7th issue. Since their publication the host LinkedIn account was deleted and so without the following these articles would pass away from memory. Take your time and hope you enjoy!
- Luis Herrera, July 2023
Functional Monk? (09/2022)
I want to be a functional monk and realize it may require the rest of this book to explain what that means. My problem with traditional monks is that they effectively retire from the world, thereby making themselves irrelevant in the modern, Western sense of the word. A functional monk does not retire and withdraw from the world, but goes out to face it daily, like a warrior whose next meal depends on the waging of successful battles. We choose to marry, to have children, to take on family life, debt, mortgage or car payments, monthly bills and must therefore never abandon our corporate roles and responsibilities.
With this world come the inescapable pressures of bosses, deadlines, targets, quotas and responsibility in every sense of the word. We literally answer to others all the time. At home we answer to our families, at work to our colleagues, managers and customers. Traditional monks, and I say this as respectfully as it can be said, have taken the easy way out. No wife, no kids, no mortgage, no bills except for the basic necessities of life, which are often sponsored by the working population of believers who are not monks. They may take on work here and there, but carry nowhere near the weight of your average Joe looking to make ends meet in the daily grind. They may garden, write books, give lectures, upload meditation content, serve as advisors and mentors. But if we’re honest, this is not real work.
So to me, to hear a monk give a lecture on how to have peace and enjoy life simply cries “bullshit,” because it’s really easy to sit in your blood orange robe, in your communally-funded, manicured lawns and preach about how detachment is the key to transcendence. If I want to learn how to have peace and transcendence, I’ll seek out a functional monk who is out there grinding it every day and hear what she or he has to say about living. This is not to cast doubt on the fact that traditional monks truly have found a way to transcend the obstacles and pain thresholds of life, because I’m convinced that I could do that too, if I ditched all personal responsibility, took up the vow of poverty and joined a monastery. There’s no artfulness to that. It’s simple mechanics. But if I want to learn about true peace for the working professional, if I want to learn the Modern Western Standard, show me the person that finds and maintains inner peace despite their myriad trials, burdens and responsibilities. This is the monk that has a recipe I can use.
If I want a lecture, I’ll seek it from somebody who is out there hitting the pavement with me, but manages to keep their cool. Someone who carries the burden of modern responsibilities as head or key contributor of their household, but enjoys life thoroughly nevertheless. This person has what I am seeking. Question, do you know anyone who meets this criteria? Do you know any functional monks? I feel that there is a giant unmet need and opportunity in this world for the person who can fit this bill. Don’t give me productivity lessons; I know how to draft an email, balance books and book a doctor’s appointment within the same quarter hour. Don’t talk to me about networking or strategic positioning for career advancement. That market (and audience) is saturated. Talk to me about having peace despite the challenges. Show me how to make the most of recreation and mental health without retiring from the world, but while remaining immersed in it, deep in the trenches of the corporate world and family life. Keep your robe. Show me a sage who knows how to rock a neck tie or stiletto heels, and does so five days a week. The person that can do this effectively will lock in a captive audience and truly enjoy the best of both worlds.
Transitory Nature of Life (10/2022)
When David saw that his servants were whispering, David perceived that the child was dead. Therefore David said to his servants, “Is the child dead?”
And they said, “He is dead.”
So David arose from the ground, washed and anointed himself, and changed his clothes; and he went into the house of the Lord and worshiped. Then he went to his own house; and when he requested, they set food before him, and he ate. Then his servants said to him, “What is this that you have done? You fasted and wept for the child while he was alive, but when the child died, you arose and ate food.”
And he said, “While the child was alive, I fasted and wept; for I said, ‘Who can tell whether the Lord will be gracious to me, that the child may live?’ But now he is dead; why should I fast? Can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me.” - 2 Samuel 12:19-23
Our pet son, Snupi, died four hours ago. He was in the prime of life, at 6 years of age. My heart hurts and feels as if it’s beating slow. The day is dark. It has been raining since early morning. I dug the grave with my brother in law and ten year old son providing emotional support and prayers, beneath tearful skies. Rest in blessed peace beloved son, dearest Snupi.
This is the closest death has hit home since the passing of my maternal grandmother in 2015. We had Snupi since birth and he’s been the first pet I can say was like a son to me. He’d put a smile on everyone’s face, always eager to stand on his hind legs and dole out hugs and kisses to anyone willing to give him the time of day, to give and receive a little love.
As we go about our busy lives, in pursuit of this and that - always on the hunt after bigger, better, faster, we need to stand back and deliberately reflect on the transitory nature of life. It is a beautiful, sacred, brief journey. All too often we take for granted the fact that our dear ones, our beloved humans and non-humans, will share the entire ride with us. My friends, most will not.
In the opening scripture we see a famous and tragic vignette in which King David loses the life of his son born unto Bathsheba, the offspring of an adulterous and murderous affair. While yet alive the king wept, hoping that in contrition “the Lord would take pity and spare the child.” Alas, it was not meant to be and the child died. Many have interpreted this event as just, divine punishment for David’s darkest sin. After losing Snupi, and before that, as I was writing Singularity, I already had a different idea of death.
In that book I took the following words from King Solomon. And in case you are rusty or unfamiliar with biblical lore, Solomon was born onto David and Bathsheba after the death of his unnamed brother. Was this divine compensation for the child taken too soon? Was this just ordinary life playing out even amongst “the anointed?” Thus saith Solomon,
I said in my heart, concerning the condition of the sons of men, “God tests them, that they may see that they themselves are like animals.” For what happens to the sons of men also happens to animals; one thing befalls them: as one dies, so dies the other. Surely, they all have one breath; man has no advantage over animals, for all is vanity. All go to one place. All are from the dust, and all to dust return.
Who knows the spirit of the sons of men, whether it goes upward? And the spirit of the animals, whether it goes downward? So I perceived that nothing is better than that a man should rejoice in his own works, for that is his heritage. For who can bring him to see what will happen after him? - Ecclesiastes 3:18-22
See, my friends? Life is a temporary, precious, fleeting gift. Yes, we are professionals. We have important duties to our companies, managers, colleagues and customers. We work hard to pay bills, provide for and shelter our loved ones with all the blessings money can buy. My point: there are many things money cannot buy. And chief among those are health and time - precious, precarious, irreplaceable commodities.
Snupi was young. Ironically, he was about my age (early forties) when translated from dog years. In my 2021 novel, Teddy Newman’s Heaven, I deal candidly with death, loss, the aftermath to family and loved ones, and of course - the afterlife. The novel does not pretend to have ‘hard and fast answers.’ It’s an allegory, a parable, a fable. It’s not giving away too much to mention that our protagonist, Teddy, dies at the age of 40, cut down in the prime of life. What happens to Teddy? Where does he go? What becomes of his family?
Death is a fascinating topic, and is in a way responsible for the survival of ancient myths and traditions better known as religions, regardless of how modern, enlightened and scientific we consider ourselves to be. It is at times such as these that some look inward, while most need outside direction and instruction. So we turn to rabbis, clergy, to gurus or monks. How do we deal with this? Where is the answer? I know life is transient, why do I feel so much pain? I thought I was a mature, tough, seasoned, rational adult. A philosopher, even. Why do I grieve?
Dear friends, to grieve is an emotionally healthy and necessary bodily function. Our emotions are hijacked and things turn dark. The light dims. Smiles fade. But this will not last forever. It’s ok to hurt. It is essential to feel that pain and let it process, run its course like a crashing ocean wave (or waves, depending on how long it takes). There is no wrong answer. Could be days, weeks, months. Hopefully not but possibly, years.
My emotions have taken me by storm today, I was not prepared for them. I was cool and stoic during our dog’s slow demise. Opposite to the grieving pattern of King David, I was cheerful and optimistic as long as Snupi was alive. I was overcome by emotion the hour he passed, and as I dug his grave under the rainstorm. When we marked his tomb. And just now, after getting a little food in me (and engaging in the cathartic process of writing), I’m beginning to feel a little peace.
Unconditional Peace (11/2022)
The key to finding lasting peace lies completely in the perpetual monitoring and regulation of thoughts that come into our mind. As we become better at spotting and diverting negative thoughts when they appear, we will start to gain emotional self-mastery and enjoy unconditional peace. An important point to make is that the negative thought or emotion is not repressed, but diverted… meaning we recognize it and simply let it fly on by, not allowing it to “land” in our mind to find residence.
This distinction is important because at the end of the day we are emotional humans, not robots, and being a functional monk is not about being coldly detached from our feelings, thoughts and emotions, but instead welcoming them with regulation and moderation. This is easier said than done. Something that’s been happening with me recently is that I have begun to feel guilty about… this is funny… having too much peace. “It’s not right,” I’ll think to myself, “you can’t be this pacific. Surely there’s something you should be worried about!” The mind, powerful as it is, will comply with this subconscious demand and start to seek out reasons for concern. Have I offended someone? Am I contributing enough to this cause or the other? Am I too carefree? Will this be noticed by and annoy important people? Should I worry more about my health, my diet, my career or financial situation?
When I fall into this trap, I remind myself that the mind is sublimely powerful and all too easily influenced by negative suggestions, whether or not they originate with me. The solution? I acknowledge the thought, then divert it from my landing strip. “There’s no space for you at this airport, keep going buddy.” Some would call this one of the many beneficial aspects of mindfulness. Although it has as many definitions as there are people who practice it, in a nutshell it means being aware of the things you see, touch, smell, taste, hear, think and feel. Being present and conscious in the moment, any moment.
In times of illness or pain, I realize, being present may be the last thing you want to do. Having recently experienced this myself, it forced me to reflect and inquire, “is mindfulness always beneficial, even in the midst of physical or emotional agony?” What I’ve learned is that yes, even when hurting it is better to be mindful. Acceptance is about allowing everything to flow freely, not just blissful moments or thoughts. The transcendent individual flows with the current of life, thereby avoiding the destruction of resistance. Be present in the moment, even in pain, and you’ll discover the very act of welcoming it serves as a balm to lessen the sensation. Inflexibility breaks. That which bends gives way, remaining wholesomely intact.
I have been overwhelmed by deep mindfulness while in a supermarket; soaking up all the colors, lights, sights, smells, textures and sounds. It is a surreal feeling that can be likened to a lucid dream, where you know you are dreaming but look around and experience things so viscerally that it nearly gives you chills. You can do this in waking life, it’s called mindfulness. I practice in the shower, while waiting (for anything), during tasks and assignments at work, religiously during breaks and at the end of the day, to recapture inner balance and poise. It is a sublime and purposeful, structured state of mind that can be reproduced at all times, under any circumstances.
Once you start to hone this skill, you will be better prepared to “catch” a negative or debilitating thought and stop it in its tracks. The flipside is that you can actively cultivate, water and nurture edifying and pacific thoughts, too. “I am doing a good job. I am good enough. I consistently turn in quality work. My coworkers and customers confidently rely on me. Our finances are coming along just fine. I am strong and healthy. Life is good.” So much of our attention is usually rapt away dwelling on past regrets, on what can go wrong at work and otherwise. These then become self-fulfilling prophecies because, once again, the subconscious mistakes such worries as commands and dutifully sets about bringing them to pass.
Give your emotions rest from the constant fretting and doomsaying. Learn to sit in peace, with your mind intentionally absorbing all that goes on around it, welcoming it, even the things that ordinarily provoke discomfort. While stuck in traffic. During the long, less-than-productive meeting. In noisy, busy settings. In tranquil, idyllic settings. Take it in and be present knowing that all things are fleeting and transitory. The only permanent thing is impermanence. Let’s abandon the thought that we need to be in a still, dark room with ambiance music and burning incense to recede into our little corner of peace. Though these conditions are ideal, they are precious and rare within a hectic work week.
Steal away for moments at a time, all throughout, and notice the difference in reduced levels of stress at the end of the day, every day. When this becomes your new normal, you will begin to discover uninterrupted, lasting peace. You needn’t quit or change your job, but can become a functional monk in the midst of it, setting a stellar example to those you’re in contact with by modeling unconditional peace.
The lowly, godlike mortal (12/2022)
Mankind is the god of this earth. This may be shocking to hear, but it is truth. Humans are thinkers, doers, creators. We invent and employ technologies that just centuries ago would have been labeled black magic, prosecuted as dark arts. Their practitioners burned at the stake as witches and warlocks; the devil’s spawn. Today they are simply disruptive innovators paving the way forward. Divine. Godlike. No longer evil practitioners of witchcraft. What a difference a few years can make, no?
It has also occurred to me of late, how obsessed we are with reaching higher in life. We see all that is good as being above, something to aspire to. And with this talk of the good being that which is up, we necessarily trample underfoot that which is low, the soil beneath our feet. The thought of being beneath anything is dreadful. We want to rise, go above and beyond. How peculiar. We humans, for all intents the living gods of this earth, come from the ground and return to it upon death. It turns out that despite our celestial and mind-numbing power, we are still ultimately dust in the wind. So are we godlike and divine or are we lowly and mortal? In truth, we are both.
The functional monk will keep this in mind: we are cosmically irrelevant while simultaneously the most astounding creature ever devised by Creation. Where others seek high stations, you will stay close to earth, both feet firmly on the ground. Dare to be great by remaining little. Reach highest not by extending upward, but by bending downward.
She who is greatest among you shall be your servant. Whoever exalts themselves will be humbled, and whoever humbles themselves will be exalted. - Matthew 23:11-12
Yes we are godlike and divine. We are also the dust of the earth. Humility instructs us in the path of righteous living. When tempted towards vanity because of our formidable will, intellect and technical capacities, something invariably cuts us down to size. When tempted in the other direction, to ponder our insignificance, we can summon the indisputable brilliance of our nature. Who can be likened to mankind on this brown, blue, green and white planet called Earth? What other being can assemble and disassemble, make and unmake, unite and divide like we do?
Do not ‘reach for the stars,’ thinking the solution to your problem dwells in the heavens. Instead stoop low and pick a flower. Let’s embrace lowliness and forsake that which is above our heads; it is too high for us. As Bob Marley wisely remarks, “‘Tis a foolish dog, that barks at a flying bird.” We are cosmically divine beings who are fashioned out of clay. We must come back to earth and plant our feet in the mud to be reminded not only where we’re from, but to what we shall ultimately return. Stand out by not caring to stand out. Call attention by not calling attention. In this world of paradox, the lowly, godlike mortal is highest in order by remaining lowest in form.
Go about your business with such serenity and quiet confidence that those around you take heart. They may think, “Nothing seems to perturb her, yet her work is immaculate. No emergency too great, no task too small. Things get done unpretentiously, without the need of accolades or recognition. I wish I could operate that way. I wonder what her secret is.” Few will suspect your lofty aura comes from keeping your roots in the ground. Little will they know; you’re becoming a functional monk.
Impermanence and Perspective (01/2023)
The greatest source of peace is this: to know that everything flows and passes by, whether good or ill. Problems, concerns and inconveniences rob our calm because we view them with “eyes of permanence,” believing they are here to stay. In a word, we lack perspective. As a grounding exercise, take whatever situation or circumstance is giving you grief or anxiety today and meditate on this; what if I knew I’d be dead by the end of the week? How much would this bother me then?
Of course it is our hope that you live much past week’s end, but I trust it proved an effective exercise in perspective. Yes, we may have more to live, but the truth is everything, including that which upsets and unsettles us, is impermanent and transitory in nature. A week, a day even, can make all the difference in terms of arriving at a resolution. As another helpful drill, can you think of a dire, life and death situation you faced five years ago? No? Hard to remember? Now how about petty inconveniences and trivial concerns? Can’t think of those either? Well then, the point is made.
Success is anticlimactic. You look around you one day and see you have all that you ever wanted and more. Peace is realizing you have arrived, and there is nothing left to chase. There is naught to do but rejoice in your surroundings; family, friends, career, home, possessions. The joys of experiences past, present and the anticipation of future. Take pleasure in your body and physical state. You are well fed. There is money in the bank. Bills are paid. The eye is satisfied with seeing, the ear with hearing, and the tongue with tasting. Quiet, peace and tranquility is what the heart desires, because there is nothing needed from without to feel complete. Yes, success is anticlimactic.
However this, too, shall pass. Alarm is just around the corner. Surprise projects and hastened deadlines jump up to greet you. The company announces headline-making rounds of layoffs over the coming weeks, months (and yes, astonishingly), even years. Is my department on the chopping block? Am I? You hustle more than ever, turning in your best work. You pull consistent overtime hours that you don’t bother to report (remember, the budget is the reason for layoffs in the first place).
Inevitably, in short order comes the crash. You’ve been firing on all cylinders too long. Not resting enough. Not eating well. Sleeping poorly, tossing and turning in bed. Short nights. Long, arduous days. Then the season changes and you catch the regional bug (hey, it always comes around the same time of year. Who are we to escape?) Stress makes it hard to focus. You drop the ball on an important project and upper management is copied on all the emails highlighting your mistake. A simple oversight with grave repercussions. It’s not the end of the world, but in this economy is it affordable? Certainly not! Heads have rolled over lesser sins.
Yet this, too, shall pass. Five years go by. You’ve survived the hurricanes. You are still employed at the same quality firm. You are now half a decade wiser, more polished, having earned several notches on your belt. You have the salary and position to match. Of course you weren’t let go. You burned the midnight oil and the candle at both ends. And you’re still here. Bills are paid. There’s money in the bank. You look around and see there is nothing more you want. Success is anticlimactic. And perspective renders the need to worry useless.
Because what was true five years ago will be true five years from now and is true today. In perspective there is peace. Because everything passes by in time as it should, whether for good or ill.
Behind our Masks (02/2023)
Forfeit all passions. Renounce the right to anger, impatience and loss of emotional control. This is the test of a veritable functional monk; can you keep your calm, equanimity and composure in the face of obstacles, grievances, provocations and setbacks, large and small? I’m ashamed to admit that for much too long I have consistently failed this test.
I like to think of myself as a composed, magnanimous, level-headed individual, but I am not. Worst of all, if being cordial and polite is expected in formal settings, why is it we feel comfortable to verbally mistreat and lash out against those in our very home? Our children, spouse, or significant other? It’s easy to put on a clean face for others, to display our enlarged, mature emotional state and understanding before the world on social media. It’s easy to wear a mask. But who are we when no one from the outside is watching? Who are we when it comes to living day to day? Who are we, really?
And it feels horrible to truly give up “our right” to anger, frustration and indignation. Don’t my emotions matter? Shouldn’t I be allowed to express myself when feeling downtrodden, victimized, dealt unfairly with? Don’t I have the right to complain, to make known my anguish, to set things straight? I can’t answer these questions for you, but I can answer them for myself, and that answer is “No. I must relinquish all passions.” I call them passions because it is an elegant, all-encompassing word for strong emotions of any nature. The idea is not to throw out with the bathwater those strong, positive emotions that make life worth living. But it is wise to do away with passions of the flesh, including but not limited to feelings of anger, aggression and retribution.
It is renunciation of the ego, which can feel a little bit like letting a piece of ourselves die. Yet if we take time to breathe and analyze clearly, we’ll see that this forfeiture of passions is no death at all. But instead the birth of countless blessings and opportunities for growth and increased intimacy in our lives. It takes deep humility to realize our spouses are not tasked with our happiness, and don’t so much as have the obligation to be tender with us. Instead it is our responsibility to be loving and tender with them regardless of circumstances. If you’ve been feeling the cold shoulder from those close to you of late, be assured it’s because you have first turned your shoulder on them.
Yes, it takes next-level maturity to grasp and understand this. But those who do and take the lesson to heart may truly set their price and expect life to pay in kind. When you begin with equanimity, composure and tranquility to treat those around you, in personal and professional settings, with utmost respect, dignity and kindness, we’ll soon find others cannot help but reciprocate. This melts icy peaks into flowing rivers of life. It turns cold, unforgiving ridges into fertile valleys of love, compassion and understanding. The change must come from within and be genuine. As trite as it sounds the old adage is true, be the change you wish to see. Otherwise my friend, you’ll have no one to thank for all your troubles and hardships but yourself.